Being wheel-less in Seattle drives home a point
Posted
Dec 01 2008, 10:50 AM
by
Donna Freedman
Rating:
I spent Black Friday on foot and on the bus, which is unusual for me. Although I take public transit to the university, I do most of my shopping by car -- in part because I'm pressed for time and in part because it allows me to buy heavy items or stock up when there's a particularly good sale. And I've always done Black Friday with a car, but this year my daughter and son-in-law borrowed my vehicle to visit his folks.
Taking buses to the stores meant being limited to the transit schedule, and having to carry my purchases from place to place instead of putting them in the trunk. It meant being exposed to windy, rainy weather. It meant a lot of walking in one shopping area, which aggravated a foot problem; I was hobbling pretty painfully by the time I got home.
All of which was an object lesson: Not everyone is lucky enough to live relatively close to stores and to have access to a car or public transit. A lack of shopping options coupled with rising food prices hits some populations pretty hard.
I can stretch my food dollars pretty well because I'm motivated to do so -- but also because four supermarkets, a bread outlet, a couple of discount drugstores and a dollar store are within a three-mile radius of my apartment. I read the store ads to scope out the best prices, drive to those stores and bring back what I need.
If I had to take the bus, I'd be limited by how much I could carry; a folding shopping cart holds only so much. I'd also be more interested in proximity than price; because my time is limited, I wouldn't be able to spend half a day going from store to store.
And if the weather were lousy? Probably I'd buy whatever I needed (regardless of the price) at the closest place, an Asian/Western supermarket that's a three-block walk away. The prices on produce and meat are good, but I'd pay a lot more for things like laundry soap or toilet paper.
Those were the days (not really)
Shopping on foot reminded me of my time as a single mother in Philadelphia. The closest grocery store, six blocks away, had decent loss leaders but high day-to-day prices. A discount grocery was about a dozen blocks away. A giant supermarket with double coupons every Wednesday was in West Philly, about a 10-minute bus ride away.
Those days, I didn't buy much. The baby and I subsisted on dry beans, neck bones, oatmeal, eggs, rice, cornmeal, spaghetti, homemade minestrone, an occasional piece of chicken, and whatever vegetables and fruit were cheapest that week.
When I needed to shop I usually chose the closest supermarket because I was tired, the baby was hungry and cranky, and I had diapers to wash. On Saturdays I'd hit the discount supermarket, where the beans were cheaper and I could get a gallon of generic apple juice (which I'd dilute with water).
Since I couldn't buy much and still push a stroller, I couldn't stock up on a month's worth of necessities at a time. Cash flow was a problem, too, because this was before you could put groceries on a credit card (which I didn't have anyway).
On Wednesdays, when I didn't start work until 10:30 a.m., I'd take my daughter to day care early and ride the bus to double-coupon day in West Philly. Near that market was a health food store that sold bulk-buy oatmeal and cornmeal. If I moved really quickly and the buses were with me, I'd manage to get the stuff home and still make it to work on time.
It would have been cheaper to buy dry beans and rice in 25- or 50-pound sacks, or cases of tomatoes at the famous "can-can" sale at the Shoprite.
But I couldn't do those things. I didn't have a car.
Low incomes, food deserts
I grew up in a rural area where having a car was a necessity. The nearest supermarket was six or seven miles away and there was zero public transit. Plenty of people are still in that situation, whether they live in the country or in an ill-planned suburb where houses sprawl for miles without a store or a bus stop in sight.
Having a car makes shopping possible in these places, and a lot easier in those parts of cities that sociologists call "food deserts" -- areas without any affordable and/or healthy food choices. One such place noted by the Chicago Tribune was Roseland, a neighborhood on that city's Far South Side. Within a 15-block area, the article noted, "the food options were a Wendy’s restaurant, a few small convenience and liquor stores, a Chinese restaurant and a fried chicken restaurant."
Thus people who live in food deserts may find themselves buying bread and milk at a convenience store because they just can't face a long bus ride to a supermarket. This is particularly true for working parents and people with health problems.
Having a car would help.
Then again, no matter where you live a car costs a lot in terms of insurance, gas and upkeep. If you're a low-wage worker, a vehicle takes a big chunk of your income. You may not need a car if you live in a place with decent public transit. But some cities are too pricey for anyone but the rich. Everyone else has to move out where apartments/homes are more affordable -- and if your suburban or rural home has limited or no public transit, you probably need a car to get to work. But it eats a big piece of your paycheck each week, which in turn makes it tough to get ahead.
Anyone else's head hurt?
I don't know the answer. Neither do urban planners, apparently, although I hope that the spike in gas prices got them thinking about how to make communities more livable. Among other things, that would include access to stores. Our choices ought to be more than just, "Fried chicken or Chinese?"
